


Kink76

by artoni



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cockwarming, Consensual Mind Control, Edging, F/M, Forniphilia, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, Kinks, M/M, Multiple Partners, NSFW, Other, Temperature Play, Zippers (BDSM), kinks as far as the eye can see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artoni/pseuds/artoni
Summary: In which everything is made up and the context doesn't matter, just a ton of kinks applied to Soldier: 76 because why the heck not. First chapter is the index, further the actual drabbles. We'll be adding more tags/relationships as they're actually written/uploaded.6/4:Ana; pervertables/impact play





	1. Index

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still early on enough that some of these may change, but this is the current projected list:

[Sombra](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716/chapters/23905560) _\- mind control_  
Mccree - boot/leather  
Reaper - bloodplay  
[Tracer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716/chapters/24705600) _\- edging/accessory to another couple_  
Pharah - uniforms  
Genji - knife/edgeplay

Torbjörn - predicament play  
Widowmaker - suspension  
Mei - temperature play [cold]  
Bastion - gunkink/cum milking  
Hanzo - piercing/shibari  
[Junkrat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716/chapters/24487038) _\- kink negotiation/fireplay_

Winston - electrostimulation  
Rein - size/stuffing  
[Roadhog](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716/chapters/23890188) _\- cockwarming / human furniture_  
Dva - ageplay-as-aftercare; nonsexual  
Orisa - massage  
Zarya- roleplay/breathplay

Mercy- medical kink  
Lucio- sensory deprivation  
[Ana](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771716/chapters/24753747) _\- pervertables/impact play_  
Zen - overstimulation  
Symmetra- crossdressing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note everything here is intended to be 100% consensual [yes, even that one]. Please remember to be safe and sane while playing around, and definitely talk with your partners regarding what you are and aren't comfortable with!


	2. Roadhog; cockwarming/human furniture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows when he's not welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer; i am unfamiliar with kiwi slang and so while this is written from roadhog's POV some things should be taken with a grain of salt. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He knows when he's not welcome. Mako's pretty damn used to the feeling, all things considered, and even if they do 'assign' him a room (what is he? a soldier?) he's more of a mind to roll his eyes behind his mask, tell them all to shove it, and haul him and Jamison out of here. But here's the thing; this was _Jamison's_ idea, part of some big master plan that will no doubt end like all the others, and Jamison's insistent on staying. And Mako has _tried_ to stay close to him, but once in a while it just doesn't work out that way.

Pain in the goddamn ass.

Huffing, he doesn't-quite-slam his fist in to the door control, but only because then he'd get the short one over here throwing a tantrum about having to fix it. And while it might have been funny at first, it got old pretty quick, and now he's just glancing at the clock on the wall before shaking his head. Still at least a couple hours before he'll hear so much as news about his partner, and he's not about to go out and try and make friends when most've'm would rather see him in jail.

But at least, as he kicks his feet up on the table and reaches for the remote, there's at _least_ some comfort offered here. Much more than either Junker is used to, honestly; someone could go soft with it. Not that this is much in the first place - him and Junkrat bunk together, but Jamison's mess pretty much fills up his half of the room to bursting and no matter what he does, it encroaches on to Mako's like some sort of kudzu - but it's at least. Comfortable. Which is saying something, anyway, but he doesn't want to think about it right now. Instead he just adjusts his pants, reaches forwards, and pulls.

The table under his feet shifts a little as it makes its own adjustment, but the warmth swallows Mako's newly-freed cock with a dutiful, if quiet, sound. Even so, Mako taps white hair with a grunt of, "No talking." He doesn't have to say it, he figures, because hell if anyone can talk with a cock in their mouth. But the hand coming to rest at his thigh twitches as though attempting to acknowledge, which is...good enough, he guesses. The furniture's strength and balance is enough to keep them steady, and that hand there _does_ serve as a method of communication if it needs to stop being furniture for a while, so it works. Just as long as that's all that happens, and Mako shifts once more to make sure he's comfortable.

There's a hitch of breath at his crotch, but no more than that. No sucking, no licking, which is just how he wants it. Mako's hand comes to rest in that hair once more with a sigh as he fiddles with the remote, noting the way it's slipped in to a calm, easy rhythm, almost meditative. A glance down allows him to appreciate the sight; the way the black bandana serves as a blindfold, the way the clear (if scuffed up) glass is held steady and level through what has to be no small amount of determination, the way it fills him with a selfish sense of possession to know that not even Junkrat gets to take a share of this, this is _his_ and _his_ alone.

Resisting the urge to pet at the scalp, Mako instead reaches to remove his own mask, setting it down on the table as he settles in to watch a couple shows. Out there is a different story, but let it never be said he doesn't know when he _is_ welcome.


	3. Sombra; mind control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _You think too much,_ " She scolded..." _Isn't that against the point of all this?_ "

" _You sure about this, viejo?_ "

Not at first, _definitely_ not at first. When he'd first found himself lulled by the voice in his visor (having gotten used to Sombra's tendency to pop up no matter how little she was wanted), reacting as if on command, he'd balked - and she'd _laughed_ , of course, the delight of a child finding a new toy. But when he'd barked at her to knock it off, she'd at least pulled herself out of his god damned _head_ , ever-so-generously 'allowing' him to finish the mission without further interference. 76 knew at this point it was going to be a trump card, something to be held in reserve until greatest need-

-so, refusing to give her that power over him, once things had calmed down he'd demanded they figure out just what the hell was going on. It wasn't the same kind of command-reaction that a soldier in the field of battle would follow; it was like she'd actually been the one to pull his arms, whirl his body in to position, and the sense of disassociation had been as much disturbing as it was disorientating.

And it wasn't that he'd trusted her, necessarily; you didn't trust someone like Sombra. You understood where you stood with them and did what you could - and hell if he'd ever really understood why she was so fixated on _him_ , aside from the fact he had his far share of skeletons in the closet, especially with his identity still a secret from the rest of Overwatch. Hell, _she_ was a secret, too, and he _knew_ this was a weakness. Knew this was a hole in the security. Knew this was going to bite him in the ass one day, this was a timebomb waiting to blow-

-but he had no way of getting her out once she had access, they both knew it, and they both played this delicate dance of trust-and-distrust. Give and take. The tidbits she dropped about Talon were fascinating, at the least, made up for some of the trouble - not all of it, but some. And then there was the separate sort of trouble that came with that weakness in his visor, the way it had an actual - if subtle - neutral connection, the way her voice could just slip in and he _allowed_ it to and-

" _Ah-ah, soldado mio,_ " She purred, the words cutting through _everything_ and leaving him feeling like a puppet on a string. _Less_ , somehow, and it should have been terrifying. Should have had him tearing off the visor, swearing to never use it again, _he could not let himself be weak_. And yet he could _feel_ nails at his stubbled chin - were there? - tilting his head up, and he wasn't sure what he saw. He didn't need to be sure, his eyes half-lidded and glassy behind the visor as he saw in to a world that couldn't be real, and yet here it was.

Here _She_ was, combing a hand through his hair (he was alone in his quarters, the door locked, _no one else was here_ ) and making a soft purr of approval.

" _You think too much,_ " She scolded, her eyes full of promise and mischief and _everything_ , his attention was to Her and nothing else right now. He had no thought to spare for Her promise that no one else would see him like this, and that meant _no one_ , She would not share this. " _Isn't that against the point of all this?_ "

Her hand lowered from his chin, and he _felt_ it. Felt it drag under his jacket, felt himself make a soft noise as he felt the zipper pulled, the cool air of the room brushing against revealed skin. He could feel, too, the way his own hands shrugged it off, but that was it - they weren't _his_ right now. He was a marionette, breath quickening as She spoke again, moving his hands for him, dragging them across skin, and he could not help but give in to it with a final shudder and breath of surrender.

" _Buen chico,_ " came the praise, filling the rest of his mind which had not yet been subsumed by Her presence. He could hear Her smile, and felt one tug at his own lips as She added, " _I'm going to take such good care of you._ "


	4. Junkrat; kink negotiation/fireplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So..." Junkrat wobbled a hand. "That'll make it a soft 'no'?"
> 
> _Growl._
> 
> "All right, all right!"

"You want," 76 stated, "to set me on _fire_."

"Well, when you say it like that, _course_ it sounds bad!" Before him, the smaller-if-far-more-animated rat of a man threw up his hands, looking around as though to find some sort of defense in his fellows. Considering Roadhog was the only one else in the room, and was just snorting before turning to the next page in his book, he didn't find much of it. Huffing, Junkrat turned back to 76, letting his hands drop a bit. "Now, I know what you're thinking, and it ain't like that at all. It's a _controlled_ fire," he insisted, spreading his arms.

"Controlled," came the echo of disbelief. 

Junkrat made a disgusted noise, turning towards his lone source of defense. "Hog, _tell'm_! You've seen me do it, 'ell, I've done it to 'im!"

Now that was interesting. 76 arched his brow as he glanced towards the larger man who was no doubt capable of not only extinguishing himself, but also of beating the stuffing out of anyone who dared do it against his will. The only response he got was Roadhog slightly raising his head and shrugging. 

No protest. Which meant he had, Which meant...ugh. 76 made a disgusted noise, reaching to rub a temple as Junkrat took all of it as invitation to continue on, how it was technically more dangerous for him than anyone he was doing it to ("An' anyone who cares to do it *right*, that is!"), how he'd had it done to himself too, plenty of times, how it was really a hell of a show and-

"Fine." 

Junkrat cut off with a stutter, blinking in surprise. "What, really?"

"With conditions. He's in the room." A jerk of his head towards Roadhog, who grunted in acknowledgement. Seeing as he couldn't detect a negative there, 76 continued; "Nobody else, I'm not here to put on a 'show'. I see your setup before we do anything. Anything wrong with it, I walk out, and I never hear you bring it up again."

"So..." Junkrat wobbled a hand. "That'll make it a soft 'no'?"

_Growl._

"All right, all right!"

* * *

He still wasn't sure why he'd agreed. He could think of a few reasons why he might have, ranging from giving the junker an outlet other than harassing the scientist to not wanting him to bring it _up_ to said scientist to just being, frankly, curious. 76 hadn't exactly been the most 'out there' in his private life - he knew what he liked, he tended to stick with it, considering that he couldn't risk being, say, in recovery for a few days when he was a Strike Commander. Even less so when he was still little more than a vigilante and couldn't trust a damn soul.

Maybe that was why he was reaching out now. Letting out a breath, 76 took a final long look around. The junkers had claimed a storeroom for this, and dragged in what looked like a beat-up exam table. It was covered by a clean towel, which led 76 to wondering just what condition the padding had been, but...nevermind. Junkrat himself was standing by another table (stool, actually, but it was a flat surface) with a few half-filled cups on it. One was tinted green, one clear. ("Gotta know which I'm workin' with, you know? Not like you're the sort to appreciate more alcohol thrown on when I'm trying to put something out!"). And Roadhog...

Roadhog was sitting. Reading a book. Again. 76 made a mental note to ask what he was reading before Junkrat's nervous-but-probably-deliberate cough caught his attention. 

"Well, ah- what d'you think?"

What _did_ he think? 76 frowned behind his mask, considered...then sighed, shaking his head. Junkrat's face fell at his response, up until 76 reached up to unzip his jacket. "It'll do," he grudgingly said, ignoring the little yelp of victory from Junkrat. "But I'm keeping my pants on."

"Fine, 'sfine!" With the way Junkrat was practically bouncing off the walls - Roadhog had even looked up, however briefly - 76 wondered if stripping that much was even necessary. But he'd done his own research; one to make sure what he was (possibly) getting in to, two to understand the safety precautions, three to figure out just what _he_ should do. So with all that taken care off, and his shirt being shucked off as well, he was dutifully following the direction of, "Just go ahead and hop up on here and get yourself comfortable, I'll go ahead and finish getting ready!"

"'Finish'?" 76 repeated with a frown, halfway to laying down. Like a hawk, his head snapped around to catch sight of Junkrat, who was...admittedly, only pulling out something that looked like a drumstick. (And where had he been keeping that?)

Junkrat shrugged a little, proceeding to examine the tool. "You didn't expect me to just set you on fire, did you?" Maybe a little, 76 didn't admit, nor did he admit his slight relief as the man continued. "Nah, this little guy 'ere'll let me get you some flames without either'f us getting hurt- unless you wanted that?" He tilted his head, and 76 snorted as he lowered himself down on to his stomach.

"Just don't screw it up. I'm still not sold on this, but you get a chance." He shifted a bit, getting comfortable as he pillowed his arms under his face. The mask and visor were still on; considering he'd heard a couple rumors that he didn't even have a face underneath, he figured their presence was unspoken.

And Junkrat, to his credit, didn't so much as glance at it. Or remark on how, upon a quick bat on the back with that stick, 76 tensed. Instead, he drawled, "Lucky for you, I ain't sellin' anything! Never figured myself for a salesman, anyway."

Bat, bat.

"Can you imagine me as one, though? 'Hello, I've got a birthday cake right here for you!" He sniggered, continuing his idle drumming, and 76, despite himself, felt some of that tension leaving...regarding the touch, anyway. The voice was a little grating. "Might actually be fun to dress up as one, though. Everyone gets a free sample~" 

76 rolled his eyes, but said nothing, noting how it'd changed to a dragging motion. He figured he wasn't really _expected_ to talk, right now, and didn't see any reason to interrupt the monologue. The most he did was shift his face, noting how Roadhog was barely paying either of them any attention; another page, and really, what was he even reading-

He almost didn't notice when the heat started. Before he could do so much as suck in a breath, though, there was a swipe of hand over his back, and Junkrat was _still_ talking. "-actually might _be_ a good way to make some money, come to think of it!"

It repeated; a stroke of heat, almost like a _stripe_ , and then pressure following in its wake and the heat going out. For all his trepidation, 76 couldn't deny it was...relaxing, somehow, the firestick (now that he'd understood its purpose) creating what he could only describe as a lick of sensation up his back. After another swipe, he felt tension ebb, and could only let out a slow, deep breath as he came to the realization that Junkrat was probably talking not only for the sake of hearing _himself_ talk, but to have distracted 76 himself from his initial tension. And considering it worked...

 _Heat._ Swipe. A little bounce, bat, _heat, heat_ \- hand swiping afterwards, before his skin could even consider it maybe being painful. 76's eyes fell closed as it began to sink in to him, muscles soothed by the warmth that seemed to sink _past_ them, straight down in to his bones. All right, so maybe Junkrat _did_ know what the hell he was doing. Maybe. 76 was lulled enough by this to even consider allowing another round of this in the future, if he was approached, up until he heard another set of words that tugged him out of a deeper space then he'd realized he'd fallen in to;

"-'ey, Roadhog, you see where I left the moose?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested in this kink, DEFINITELY take a class if you're going to top, and MAKE SURE your top has taken one if you're bottoming. 
> 
> Also? Mousse.
> 
> ALSO ALSO, support's next, anyone got any preference?


	5. Tracer - edging[/accessory-to-another-couple]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer, in her shamelessly upfront and honest demeanor, all but swung her arm about him as they were moving back to quarters and ever-so-casually said, “So Emily’s wondering if you’d be interested in joinin’ us for one of our games, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry tracer blinked ahead of support but hey guys million dollar question how do you write jack/lena without vaguehanding away her status as a lesbian  
> answer; it's not for him, it's for her hot girlfriend, and is there a better name for this kink idk
> 
> ALSO tried something different with style here. hope it's not too hard to read.

This is how the game is played;

This was how it cameabout;

Jack – he’s Jack here, by his own request, no titles,  
no ranks, nothing but himself in his skin and scars –  
is seated in a chair that’s comfortable enough for  
him to relax in to without feeling like he’s sagging in  
to cushions. His arms are easy on the rests, able to  
get a grip as necessary, but no ropes or straps or  
anything to keep him in place but his own willpower.

Tracer, in her shamelessly upfront and honest demeanor,  
all but swung her arm about him as they were  
moving back to quarters and ever-so-casually said, “So  
Emily’s wondering if you’d be interested in joinin’ us  
for one of our games, yeah?”

Same with his legs; he’s allowed to move both, but  
he isn’t allowed to get up. Which is fair, considering  
the woman between his legs is the focus here. And  
he’s surprised, a little, with how much he doesn’t  
mind it; how easily he’s able to just simply take  
her in as she takes _him_ in, albeit with a little  
more...difficulty. Mostly from lack of experience,  
which is understandable.

He’d almost choked- both from the direct approach,  
and the fact that he’d known for years that Lena had  
always preferred, well, _women_. And Lena, to her  
credit, didn’t so much as giggle over his reaction,  
instead patiently waiting until he’d recovered to  
continue her pitch.

Behind _her_ stands another, with fiery red hair  
and a sharp smirk on her lips. She’s clearly enjoying  
herself, a blue leash looped easily around her hand,  
which is tugged just slightly if only to get a reaction  
from the one on the other hand – which, at this moment,  
is a sharp little gasp, which then feeds back to Jack  
and has him dig his fingers in while repressing  
another sound.

“Swing on by if you’d like to have some fun, all right?”  
She’d given him a cheeky smile and a wink. “I’m the  
one who brought it up, before you even ask.”

The leash matches Lena’s outfit; bright blue, but a  
simple leather in contrast to the lacy lingerie  
decorating her form. And _that_ matches Emily’s  
own, even if Emily’s is black. Jack almost felt out of  
place, but reminded himself that he wasn’t the spotlight,  
here, and made himself simply appreciate how it looked  
on the both of them.

Lena _still_ preferred women, upon investigation,  
but Emily simply enjoyed people. And she also enjoyed  
seeing what she could persuade Lena to do, and Lena  
was eager to please as well. It wasn’t necessarily that  
she was interested _in_ him, but as an  
accessory to a scene?

Really, even if he wasn’t currently receiving attention  
about the most sensitive part of his body, he might  
have simply been able to appreciate viewing them  
for a bit. As it is now, though, it just frames the  
sensation of an eager mouth lapping at him, following  
murmured directions from another. At first,  
understandably, it had been far less sure of itself; eager,  
yes, but still exploring, still getting the hand of  
things, but god if Jack’s cock hadn’t appreciated the  
entire set of efforts nonetheless.

“I’m not sure how I feel about just being scenery,” 76 –  
or, well, Jack at that point, had grumbled. They’d done  
away with masks (Tracer had been, in fact, one of the  
first to recognize him for whom he was – not that she’d  
dared bring it up, respecting his privacy until the  
situations shifted and he allowed things to progress) and  
he’d been sitting at a table with the two of them, a  
second pot of coffee brewing to replenish what they’d  
already taken.

He’s enjoying all of this, honestly. It’s easy to lose  
himself, and his breathing is growing heavy as he  
feels warmth coil in his gut. Generally he likes  
something a little more _intense_ , but with the  
framework given, he has just enough to ground himself  
and maybe not exactly drop in to a headspace like Lena,  
there, but he can feel it, he can _feel_ it, he  
makes another noise and-

“Think of it more as a game,” Emily had said, her own  
mug held in both hands. “Lena enjoys a little challenge,  
and she trusts you to the point where I can use you as  
punishment if she misbehaves.” Off to the side, Lena  
made a sound somewhere between a snort and a giggle.  
“As for you, you get to try and trick her, and if you  
succeed then you get your own reward.”

The leash tugs, Lena pulls back, and Jack is left tense  
as, _again_ , it escapes him. His head is thrown  
back and he’s breathing heavily, toes curled, and he  
can _just_ hear Emily murmuring...something to  
Lena. Some kind of praise, probably, for doing it  
_again_ , she’s too damn good at reading him for  
being so new at this. Or maybe that’s just Emily in  
general, able to watch the both of them, and she  
_does_ spare a brief hand to soothingly stroke  
his own brow.

At that point, Jack had glanced towards Lena, arching  
his brow in clear query. It’d have been a lie to say he  
hadn’t been drawn to her – he always had, in various  
ways, but there were a multitude of reasons why he  
had kept his feelings about any such attractions (to  
_anyone_ ) close to his chest – but all he’d heard  
so far was from her girlfriend. Mistress? Whatever  
terminology they used.

It helps. He swallows, nods, and settles back, letting  
out a heavy breath as he regrounds himself. But only  
when he gives the word does Lena start again, just as  
eagerly as before, happy to lap at him if it means  
earning the praise of her partner. Through bleary  
eyes, though, Jack can just make out Emily kneeling  
down behind her, and by the sounds Lena’s making  
she’s no doubt started rewarding her in other ways  
for her obedience.

Lena, though, had an awkward smile on her face. It was  
pointed more towards Emily than him, but he’d seen  
enough to know how to read _that_ particular  
look. “Trust me, if I was against this, I wouldn’t have  
been the one to have thought of it,” she had promised.  
“It’s going to be different, but different once in a while  
isn’t bad, now, is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual pre-convo between lena and emily:
> 
> lena; that was really hot last night when you called me your whore  
> emily; mhm  
> lena; would you actually like me to do that  
> emily; what  
> lena; you know  
> emily; what  
> lena; with a dude  
> emily; what  
> lena; for you  
> emily; wh  
> lena; cool i pick the dick tho  
> emily; wHAT


	6. Ana - pervertables/impact play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Open your eyes." Only when he did, did she bring the hairbrush in to view, smiling a little at his dubious expression. "You forget all-too-easily," she continued, bringing its coarse bristles down against his chest.

Ana would have laughed at how easy it was for them to fall back in to it if she hadn't been taken aback by just how badly Jack _needed_ it. Not even so much a scene, but the chance to remove his masks - _all_ of them - and to feel _safe_.

She knew better than to say that, however. Any sort of remark like _that_ would result in Jack closing right back off unless he was already in the right state of mind, and not only was she getting too old for that, they hardly had the gear for something like it. Still, they had _some_ things, which was why she had deliberately laid out a few of them where Jack could just-so-happen to come across them. And why she just-so-happened to coming across him when he had been turning a clothespin between two fingers, a slight frown on his face.

"I'm surprised you're not hunching over the terminals," she teased, neatly plucking one from his fingers. Jack, for his part, just grunted, but Ana neatly continued before he could. "Do you need something to clear your head?"

Which was why he was now _wearing_ that clothespin - and quite a few others. They'd made an impromptu zipper along each pectorial, framing the muscle from shoulder to underneath. And while someone else would have mistaken his expression for pain, Ana knew better, even if she hadn't seen it in years.

"Just like we used to do, hmm?" She traced a hand down the side of his cheek, smiling at the deepening crease in his brow.

"We used to have a little more to work with," he rasped, voice thick with something on the edge of pain. And he wasn't wrong; back in the day, so to speak, they had a quite a cache of toys and tools. He wouldn't have been bound with his own belt, for example, hands held above his head more to keep them out of the way than to actually restrain him. And he wouldn't be laying back on her mattress, because his cot was an even worse choice. 

Still, they were different people back then, too. Ana tutted as she flicked the zip, evoking a low groan from Jack as his hands tightened. "We've also always been very resourceful," she pointed out. "Open your eyes." Only when he did, did she bring the hairbrush in to view, smiling a little at his dubious expression. "You forget all-too-easily," she continued, bringing its coarse bristles down against his chest.

At the first touch against his nipples, Jack sucked in a sharp breath, another low sound escaping on the way out. "I think I'm remembering."

"Do you now?" A quick flick of her wrist and it was the wood side being slapped against skin with a meaty _thk_. "Should I move on?"

" _No-!_ " The tension - half preparation from the next strike, half worry - held for a few seconds, until she took pity and brought the brush against his sensitive skin once more. Another heavy breath escaped him as he tried not to squirm, because, of course, that would jostle his accessories. "It's- it's a good remembering."

Of course, he always lost words when he started to fall in to this. Ana remembered too, and smiled fondly as she gave a little more attention with that side and flipping it, starting a few strikes on the other side before giving it the same brushing treatment. Jack didn't quite whine at it, but did arch himself just a bit, clearly offering himself for more. And luckily for him, she thought with a brief glance to the side, they had quite a bit more to work with.

"Don't worry, Jack," she murmured, reaching for a wooden spoon next. "We'll both remember more before we're through done for the night."

He met her smile with his own, flexed his hands, and when Ana _felt_ as much as saw him reach it, she seared the image in to her own memories.


End file.
